As Holy Week approaches, my mind often drifts back to an Easter I spent in Romania. I’ve tried, more than once, to recreate what I experienced there—but I’ve never quite been able to. To understand why, I have to go back a bit. In 2006, my church planned a mission trip to Romania. A group of ten women would spend their days in a hospital caring for abandoned babies. I felt drawn to go—but I hesitated. My own children were young, and the thought of leaving them for that long felt overwhelming. Over time, that hesitation turned into conviction. I sensed God asking me to trust Him—not just with the children I would care for overseas, but with the ones I would leave at home. So I made a quiet promise: If someone drops out and they call me, I’ll go. Two weeks before the trip, the call came. I said yes—but I was completely unprepared. My passport wasn’t even up to date. And yet, one by one, every obstacle moved. It was as if God was clearing the path ahead of me. Our first full day in Romania was Resurrection Sunday. We walked to church through streets lined with stray dogs and crumbling sidewalks. Trash piled up on corners. The buildings felt worn, almost colorless. It wasn’t beautiful in the way we often define beauty. But what struck me wasn’t what I saw—it was what I felt. Overwhelming joy. As we walked, every person we passed greeted us the same way: “Hristos a înviat!”— Christ is risen! And the response came just as quickly, just as joyfully: “Adevărat a înviat!”— He is risen indeed! This joy wasn’t reserved for inside the church walls. It filled the streets. It echoed on buses, in restaurants, on sidewalks. Everywhere we went, people proclaimed it to one another—strangers, friends, everyone. And when we arrived at the church, the joy only deepened. There were warm embraces, double cheek kisses, and then again that same declaration— Christ is risen! —spoken with a kind of wholehearted delight that caught me off guard. This wasn’t a culture known for outward emotion. And yet, here it was—unfiltered joy. It wasn’t manufactured. It wasn’t performative. It was just… real. I had spent my entire life attending Easter services. But I couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything quite like this. It made me wonder: Did the resurrection mean something different here? As I looked around, the marks of hardship were everywhere. Years of oppression had left their imprint on the city and its people. And I couldn’t help but think—maybe that’s why the resurrection felt so alive. Maybe hope always feels more precious when you’ve known hopelessness. I think about how people celebrate the end of a war. My father told stories of the joy that erupted when World War II ended—dancing, parades, people flooding the streets. The kind of celebration that couldn’t be contained. And I wonder… If that kind of victory stirs such joy, what should the victory over death awaken in us? Scripture gives us a glimpse. When the Ark of the Lord returned, David danced with all his might—so freely, so fully that it scandalized those watching. He didn’t hold back. He couldn’t. How much more should we celebrate our Lord’s return from the grave? Jesus conquered the enemy. He let us know the end of the story and who the victor is. Death has lost its grip. We are forgiven, restored, and held in a hope that does not run out. There is no greater cause for celebration! And yet—if I’m honest—so often our Easter joy feels… restrained. Polite. Contained within a service, rather than spilling into the streets. This Holy Week, as we remember Jesus’ final days—His words, His acts of love, His sacrifice—I’ve been asking a different question: What would life feel like if the resurrection hadn’t happened? To sit, even briefly, in that space is to feel the weight of what we’ve been given. Because we don’t live in that story. We live in the one where Sunday came. And maybe that’s the invitation—not to manufacture emotion, but to recover wonder. To let gratitude grow until it becomes something we can’t keep to ourselves. Resurrection Joy and Fresh Expressions I can’t help but think about what I witnessed in Romania and what it might mean for the future of the church—especially for Fresh Expressions. What I experienced there wasn’t a program or a strategy. It was a people so shaped by the reality of the resurrection that their joy naturally overflowed into everyday life. It happened on sidewalks. On buses. Around tables. It was good news carried in ordinary voices in ordinary streets. That’s the heartbeat of Fresh Expressions: cultivating communities where the reality of Jesus—alive, present, victorious—is felt so deeply that it can’t help but be shared. Where resurrection joy shows up in coffee shops, dinner tables, recovery groups, walking trails, and neighborhood spaces. Places where people don’t just hear “Christ is risen” once a year… but encounter the living Christ in the rhythms of everyday life. Maybe the question for us isn’t simply how to celebrate Easter better. Maybe it’s this: What would it look like to build communities where resurrection joy is so real, so tangible, that it naturally spills out into the world around us? Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.
Questions to spark curiosity in your congregation about the community around you! For most followers of Jesus and congregations, we know it’s important to serve the community around us. But we also know it can be easy to grow inwardly focused. While practicing the “one anothers” with those within the church is important, we must work hard to not neglect outreach. Here are some questions that can spark curiosity, launch conversation, and help ensure that we focus on those who are not yet here among us. Knowing Our Neighbors Personally Who are the 20–50 people living closest to our congregation? Do we know their names? Their stories? Their hurts? Their hopes? If not, what keeps us from knowing them? Who feels invisible in our ZIP code? Who are the “connectors” who already exist in our neighborhood? Understanding People’s Hopes, Hurts, and Longings What does good news look like to these people? What are the unspoken anxieties shaping people here? Where is suffering concentrated? What do our neighbors celebrate—and why? What might our neighbors fear when it comes to engaging with a church? What might we do to eliminate or alleviate these barriers? Recognizing Patterns and Knowing History Are there any noticeable themes or patterns in the stories we hear? What stories does our neighborhood tell about itself—through art, events, festivals, history, etc.? What major events (positive or painful) have shaped – and continue to shape – our community today? What assumptions do we have about our neighbors and the neighborhood that may not be accurate? (And how would we know?) Observing the Everyday Rhythms and Spaces Where do people naturally gather—and why? What are the rhythms of life in our community (mornings, nights, weekends)? Where do children and teens spend their time? How could we naturally and appropriately look to inhabit that space in compassion with them? Where do people go to decompress or rest? How does the built environment shape life here? Exploring Assets and Identifying Gifts What charisms – spiritual gifts or assets – does our congregation possess that we could share? How could we be creative with them, if its they are small gestures? What gifts and talents already exist among our neighbors? Where is hope already springing up? What organizations or leaders are already doing good work we could partner with? Identifying Barriers and Naming Opportunities What barriers and obstacles prevent people from flourishing? What is noticeably missing in our community? What keeps us from knowing our neighbors’ names and stories – time, busyness, fear, apathy, lack of creativity, lack of courage, etc.? What small acts of consistent kindness could build relational bridges? Reflecting on our Congregation’s Existing Presence If our church disappeared tomorrow, would our neighbors notice? Would they care? Would they mourn? If not, how does that make us feel? How do people experience trust – or lack thereof – here? What new forms of church might emerge if we listened more deeply and trusted more wholly?
What if church began by listening to the passions already shaping a community? In this episode, Sharon White shares how a small rural congregation in Waco, Georgia, discovered that bluegrass music was a doorway to belonging. What started as prayerful curiosity grew into the West Georgia Opry, a weekly gathering where music, story, and hospitality now draw nearly 100 people in a town of just 500. This is a story of paying attention, trusting the Spirit, and discovering how church can take shape far beyond Sunday morning. Rev. Sharon White is Senior Pastor of Midway United Methodist Church in Douglasville, Georgia. Shaped by her rural church roots, she leads with a passion for creative, inclusive ministry and cultivating fresh expressions of church beyond traditional walls. She has pioneered initiatives like Bluegrass Church , blending Appalachian music, storytelling, and Christian hospitality. Grounded in United Methodist tradition, Sharon empowers laity and helps communities discover joyful, accessible ways of being church. This season, we’re diving into the streams of Fresh Expressions — from senior adults and recovery ministry, to arts, outdoors, recreation, and more. Each month, you’ll hear directly from practitioners who are navigating these fresh ways of being church in the world. Their stories will spark your imagination and encourage you to see where God is already at work in your community and how you might join in! So whether you’re a pastor, lay leader, or simply curious about how church can thrive beyond the walls, join us for Season seven of the Fresh Expressions Podcast. Related Resources:
A healthy church isn’t just a tight-knit group of friends. It’s a place where all kinds of relationships can flourish. In this conversation, David Blackwell shares how insights from Dunbar’s Number invite rural church leaders to rethink size and connection, and how prioritizing weak, bridging relationships can help rural churches break down cliques, welcome outsiders, and embody the Gospel in place. Listeners will hear both a challenge and a roadmap for building more robust relational ecosystems that reflect the breadth of God’s community. David Blackwell has served as the senior pastor of Florence-Carlton Community Church in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana for 19 years, and is passionate about helping develop church leaders and pastors for outwardly-focused, community-oriented ministry in small town and rural settings. Chris and Kathleen Blackey , are hosts of the Rural Renewal Podcast. Since 2010, together they have served as co-pastors at the First Baptist Church of South Londonderry, Vermont. The Blackeys live in South Londonderry, Vermont with their children – Sarah, Daniel, and Priscilla, as well as their cat, dog, and chickens. Related Resources: The Church and Dunbar’s Number - https://seedbed.com/the-church-and-dunbars-number/ Rural Churches Need More Weak Relationships - https://wheatonbillygraham.com/rural-churches-need-more-weak-relationships-by-carl-greene/ Join our Facebook group: Rural Renewal Podcast Community Email us: podcasts@freshexpressions.com Subscribe & Review Help us get the word out by subscribing and leaving a review for Rural Renewal Podcast on your favorite platform. Apple Podcasts Spotify Google Podcasts
On Thursday evenings in Ford City, Pennsylvania , the smell of a home-cooked meal drifts through a building at 412 9th Street as neighbors begin taking their seats around long tables. Some arrive looking for connection. Others come because they need a warm meal. A few carry quiet questions about faith. All of them are welcomed to The Dinner Table . Launched in October 2024, The Dinner Table is a donation-based community dinner and worship gathering that brings together people who might never walk into a traditional church service—neighbors facing financial hardship, people who feel disconnected from church, skeptics, and longtime believers alike. What happens each Thursday is simple but meaningful: people share a meal, listen to music, pray for one another, and talk honestly about how Jesus might be moving in their lives. The vision echoes the rhythm of the early church described in Acts 2:42 , where believers gathered around meals, devoted themselves to fellowship and prayer, and learned the way of Jesus together. That same pattern is quietly taking root in this small town along the Allegheny River. “Some of the people sitting at our tables might never step foot in a traditional church… Some come for a home-cooked meal, others feel lost in their faith. This is our community. This is our church.” Ford City itself is a borough of about 2,800 residents , once a thriving industrial town and now navigating many of the economic and social transitions common across Rust Belt communities. In a place where financial pressures and loneliness are real, gathering around food has become a powerful way to rebuild connection. And around these tables, church is beginning to look a little different. When Church Begins With a Table The Dinner Table did not begin with a complicated strategy. It started with a simple observation: many people in the community were not connecting with traditional church services—but they were open to relationships, conversation, and shared meals. So instead of asking neighbors to come to church first, the leaders began with something more natural: a table and a meal. Each Thursday evening volunteers prepare food, set tables, and welcome guests as they arrive around 5:00 PM. Music fills the room, announcements are shared, and a short reflection invites people to consider ho w Jesus might be present in their lives. But the most meaningful moments often happen in the conversations around the tables. Rather than expecting people to believe before they belong, the gathering creates space where belonging can come first. Food, Friendship, and Faith Over time, three simple words have come to describe the rhythm of The Dinner Table: Food. Friendship. Faith. One early post celebrating the weekly gathering captured the spirit of the evening: “Another great night at The Dinner Table! Thanks to Will, Maya, and Landyn for cooking up a great meal. If you’re looking for a church built around food, friendship, and faith—this is the place for you.” Meals are simple but meaningful. On one December evening, 80 neighbors from outside the church joined the gathering alongside 14 volunteers . Together they shared a Christmas meal of ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans, and fresh fruit. After dinner, the room quieted as someone read the story of Jesus’ birth from Luke chapters 1 and 2 . In the middle of conversation and laughter, the ancient story of Christmas was heard again around the tables. Moments like these reveal something powerful: church doesn’t always need a stage or sanctuary. Sometimes it begins with plates, chairs, and open conversation. Small Steps, Real Impact As the gatherings continued, the impact began to grow. By November 2025, the community had served 308 meals across three Thursday gatherings, and the group celebrated one person giving their life to Christ. What started as a simple meal had become something deeper: a place where neighbors experience friendship, prayer, and spiritual curiosity together. Pulling Up Another Chair What is happening each Thursday in Ford City may look simple—but it is deeply transformational. A shared meal has become a doorway to belonging for people who might never enter a traditional church building. In many ways, this is simply a rediscovery of the early church. As Acts 2:42 reminds us, followers of Jesus devoted themselves to fellowship, prayer, and the breaking of bread together. And perhaps that is the most encouraging part of this story: this kind of church is possible anywhere . It doesn’t require a large budget or a polished program. It begins with listening to a community, loving people well, and creating space where relationships can grow. Sometimes the most powerful place for church to begin is exactly where it did in the first century— around a table where everyone is welcome.
On Thursday evenings in Ford City, Pennsylvania , the smell of a home-cooked meal drifts through a building at 412 9th Street as neighbors begin taking their seats around long tables. Some arrive looking for connection. Others come because they need a warm meal. A few carry quiet questions about faith. All of them are welcomed to The Dinner Table . Launched in October 2024, The Dinner Table is a donation-based community dinner and worship gathering that brings together people who might never walk into a traditional church service—neighbors facing financial hardship, people who feel disconnected from church, skeptics, and longtime believers alike. What happens each Thursday is simple but meaningful: people share a meal, listen to music, pray for one another, and talk honestly about how Jesus might be moving in their lives. The vision echoes the rhythm of the early church described in Acts 2:42 , where believers gathered around meals, devoted themselves to fellowship and prayer, and learned the way of Jesus together. That same pattern is quietly taking root in this small town along the Allegheny River. “Some of the people sitting at our tables might never step foot in a traditional church… Some come for a home-cooked meal, others feel lost in their faith. This is our community. This is our church.” Ford City itself is a borough of about 2,800 residents , once a thriving industrial town and now navigating many of the economic and social transitions common across Rust Belt communities. In a place where financial pressures and loneliness are real, gathering around food has become a powerful way to rebuild connection. And around these tables, church is beginning to look a little different. When Church Begins With a Table The Dinner Table did not begin with a complicated strategy. It started with a simple observation: many people in the community were not connecting with traditional church services—but they were open to relationships, conversation, and shared meals. So instead of asking neighbors to come to church first, the leaders began with something more natural: a table and a meal. Each Thursday evening volunteers prepare food, set tables, and welcome guests as they arrive around 5:00 PM. Music fills the room, announcements are shared, and a short reflection invites people to consider ho w Jesus might be present in their lives. But the most meaningful moments often happen in the conversations around the tables. Rather than expecting people to believe before they belong, the gathering creates space where belonging can come first. Food, Friendship, and Faith Over time, three simple words have come to describe the rhythm of The Dinner Table: Food. Friendship. Faith. One early post celebrating the weekly gathering captured the spirit of the evening: “Another great night at The Dinner Table! Thanks to Will, Maya, and Landyn for cooking up a great meal. If you’re looking for a church built around food, friendship, and faith—this is the place for you.” Meals are simple but meaningful. On one December evening, 80 neighbors from outside the church joined the gathering alongside 14 volunteers . Together they shared a Christmas meal of ham, scalloped potatoes, green beans, and fresh fruit. After dinner, the room quieted as someone read the story of Jesus’ birth from Luke chapters 1 and 2 . In the middle of conversation and laughter, the ancient story of Christmas was heard again around the tables. Moments like these reveal something powerful: church doesn’t always need a stage or sanctuary. Sometimes it begins with plates, chairs, and open conversation. Small Steps, Real Impact As the gatherings continued, the impact began to grow. By November 2025, the community had served 308 meals across three Thursday gatherings, and the group celebrated one person giving their life to Christ. What started as a simple meal had become something deeper: a place where neighbors experience friendship, prayer, and spiritual curiosity together. Pulling Up Another Chair What is happening each Thursday in Ford City may look simple—but it is deeply transformational. A shared meal has become a doorway to belonging for people who might never enter a traditional church building. In many ways, this is simply a rediscovery of the early church. As Acts 2:42 reminds us, followers of Jesus devoted themselves to fellowship, prayer, and the breaking of bread together. And perhaps that is the most encouraging part of this story: this kind of church is possible anywhere . It doesn’t require a large budget or a polished program. It begins with listening to a community, loving people well, and creating space where relationships can grow. Sometimes the most powerful place for church to begin is exactly where it did in the first century— around a table where everyone is welcome.
Fresh Expressions recently hosted a Missional Entrepreneurship Immersion at church-run coffee shop and community space Ridgetop Coffee & Tea . Located in the midst of an everyday marketplace of business, daycare, and healthcare, Ridgetop has become a natural community hub and a living example of how enterprise and mission can beautifully intertwine. Participants explored the difference between missional enterprises—profit-making businesses that provide needed services in the community while creating space for relationships and faith—and social enterprises—nonprofit organizations that meet community needs while also fostering meaningful connection and opportunities for faith exploration. Together, the group wrestled with Peter’s vision in Acts 10, asking what assumptions God might be reframing today and how God may be enlarging our understanding of mission, ministry, and building usage. Participants also confronted the “sacred cows” that can keep congregations from stepping into bold, faithful innovation. There was robust conversation around the passage “Unless the Lord builds the house those who build it labor in vain” (Psalm 127:1 NRSVUE) recognizing that missional entrepreneurship can’t be all about our grandiose schemes. Participants also grappled with the question: What does it mean to you that your “success” or “failure” is both in your control and mysteriously not in your control? This work, they affirmed, is not about our brilliant plans, but about faithfully following open (and closed) doors with courage and trust as we follow where God may be leading. A panel of entrepreneurs reflected on the tension between starting small and scaling big. One small-venture entrepreneur shared that through small faithful steps, “I have learned to follow the energy. Where the energy is, I do more of that.” A large-scale entrepreneur reflected, “Because of our scale, we are able to have a scope of impact that is beyond our customers—we have 55 employees that we get to do life with, and that in itself is a fertile mission field.” Some settings will be ripe for a big initiative because of a large real estate transaction, a significant partnership and redevelopment of facility, or a group of investors willing to bring a big idea into reality. Other settings will find themselves in a landscape where an initiative needs to begin with a small investment and scale as opportunities and developing partnerships signal the need to take growth steps. Another panel explored the balance between discernment and action. Too many times, congregations overspiritualize discernment, as if they are waiting for the lightning bolt from God before they can take a step. Others get so stuck in a cycle of discernment that it never leads to decision points and action. On the other hand, some congregations underutilize discernment, running full steam ahead without doing any thoughtful listening, seeking God’s wisdom, or getting to know potential stakeholders or partners. Each panelist reflected on times when they knew they had to move, even if they didn’t feel like they knew enough. “A business plan is important,” one entrepreneurship professor and business owner noted, “but one thing I know about your business plan is that it will absolutely change. But that plan is important because it’s the floor on which you will pivot.” A social enterprise executive director encouraged participants with a simple but powerful question: “What can you start small now?”
I’m the granddaughter of a grower, a horticulturist, and a pioneer who supplied the Eastern United States with delicious fruit and beautiful plants for decades. Growing up, I learned early that fertile fields don’t just happen—you prepare them. You walk the boundaries, test the soil, remove the rocks, and pray for rain. You learn to trust that the seeds you plant will bear fruit in time. That rhythm—preparing, sowing, tending, and trusting—has shaped how I see the church and the mission of God. Jesus tells a story in Matthew 13 about a sower who scatters seed with generous abandon. Some falls on rocky ground, some among thorns, and some on good soil that produces an abundant harvest. The sower’s work is not to force the growth, but to prepare the soil and make room for the Spirit’s increase. I think that’s what we’re doing in the Fresh Expressions movement—cultivating the kind of soil where the gospel can take root in the hearts of people who might never find their way into a sanctuary. When the Fields Called Wesley In the spring of 1739, John Wesley faced his own “field moment.” His friend George Whitefield invited him to preach outside the walls of the church—literally, in the open air—to miners and laborers who would never set foot in an Anglican parish. Wesley was hesitant. He had been formed as an Anglican priest, faithful to the order and rhythm of the church. But when he saw the crowds who were spiritually hungry yet far from the pews, he wrote in his Journal: “At four in the afternoon I submitted to be more vile, and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation.” — John Wesley’s Journal, April 2, 1739 Today, fewer than 1 in 3 Americans attend church services regularly, with only about 20% attending weekly and over half (57%) rarely or never participating in traditional religious gatherings. Meanwhile, nearly 30% of Americans now identify as religiously unaffiliated—a number that continues to rise each year. https://news.gallup.com/poll/642548/church-attendance-declined-religious-groups.aspx Yet, research consistently shows strong spiritual curiosity. For example, a recent study found that 66% of U.S. adults—even across generations—say they have made a personal commitment to Jesus that is still important today, and nearly a third of all Americans consider themselves “spiritually curious” despite not attending church. https://georgebarna.com/2025/02/most-americans-believe-in-a-supreme-power/ These trends echo the challenge that John Wesley faced—many people are unlikely to come inside church walls, but they remain deeply open to spiritual conversations and new expressions of Christian community outside traditional settings. That moment changed everything. Wesley didn’t abandon the Church of England; he sought to renew it from within by reaching those it had overlooked. His heart was not to create a rival church, but to extend the reach of grace—in his words to, “spread scriptural holiness throughout the land.” He knew the gospel could not be contained within the walls of even the most faithful parish. That is the beauty of the Methodist movement and perhaps what I most highly regard in Wesley’s theology. This important contribution to contemporary to Christian theogy is a both/and ness or as Wesley scholar Paul Chilcote refers to it “conjunctive theology” rather than either/or theology, that fleshes itself out in practical ways across our bridgebuilding tradition. Preparing the Soil Then and Now Wesley’s decision to take to the fields was not rebellion—it was reclamation. Both/And. He understood, as Jesus taught in Matthew 13, that the Word of God often meets resistance, but when the soil is ready, it multiplies thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold. The condition of the soil, in fact, did not prevent the Sower from scattering it generously if even perhaps, haphazardly. Wesley began organizing those who responded into small groups, or “societies, class meetings, and bands” where people could confess their sins, hear the stories and learn the ways of Jesus, and care for one another. Those early Methodists became gardeners of grace—cultivating holiness through community, discipline, and mission. That same pattern continues today in Fresh Expressions of church. We’re not creating something entirely new; we’re tending the fields Wesley and the circuit riders once rode through, believing again that God’s grace precedes us, is already at work, and wants to reach every person, in every place. We need only tend the soil of our communities. Whether it’s a dinner church, a running group, a recovery circle, or a coffee shop community, these expressions of church echo Wesley’s field preaching: going to where people are, not waiting for them to come to us. Sent in Pairs: Luke 10 and the Circuit Riders When Jesus sent out the seventy-two in Luke 10, He gave them clear instructions: “Go! I am sending you out like lambs among wolves… Do not take a purse or bag or sandals; and do not greet anyone on the road.” (Luke 10:3–4) He told them to rely on the hospitality of others, to speak peace, and to heal. The mission was mobile, relational, and dependent on the Spirit. Those instructions could easily describe the circuit riders of early Methodism. They traveled light, trusted God to provide, and sought out people who hadn’t heard the good news. They were sent to proclaim grace, form communities of faith, and nurture discipleship in barns, taverns, and on front porches. Quite frankly, this depended on the everyday Christian and the ministry of the laity. The only way the Methodist movement was able to move across the American landscape was due to the empowerment of the laity. Today is no different. The people called Methodist speak to this value in our connectional system. These fresh expressions of church are one more way we can empower and deploy our laity while recapturing our Wesleyan roots like the circuit riders who paved the way for us today. Where might God be calling you to cultivate the soil in your own community? Who are the people on the edges—the ones who aren’t coming to church but whom Jesus longs to reach? How might you go, as Wesley did, to where the people already are? The circuit riders’ lives were marked by both grit and grace. They rode hundreds of miles through harsh weather, often sleeping outdoors (and sometimes even on horseback), driven by a conviction that no soul should be out of reach of grace. Their legacy reminds us that innovation in mission is never about novelty for its own sake—it’s about love that refuses to be limited by buildings or boundaries. Today’s Fresh Expressions pioneers share that same resilient spirit, seeking out the people and places where grace permeates the soil and seeds beg to break through. Cultivating Fields of Renewal Wesley often said, “The world is my parish.” It was both a statement of boldness and humility. He didn’t mean he owned the world; he meant the world was entrusted to him as a field of mission. Every village, every person, every pub, every workplace—each was soil in which the Spirit was at work. Today, our fields might look different—online spaces, neighborhood parks, assisted living facilities, tattoo parlors, or CrossFit gyms—but the call remains the same: to cultivate soil where grace can grow. When we experiment with new forms of church, we’re not forsaking the old fields; we’re expanding the boundaries of the parish. A Call to Go and Grow As the granddaughter of a grower, I know that preparing soil is slow, patient work. You can’t rush a harvest. You have to tend to what’s beneath the surface, trusting that God is already at work long before the first green shoots appear. As a Methodist, I recognize the same pattern in Wesley’s movement. His ministry took root because he went to the people and nurtured what God was already growing. Fresh Expressions today are simply another season in that same story—another generation of Methodists called to go, to till, to tend, and to trust. “I look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation.” — John Wesley, Journal, June 11, 1739 As Jesus said to His followers in Luke 10, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.” (Luke 10:2) The same is true today. The harvest fields around us are ripe—with people longing for belonging, meaning, and hope. The invitation is simple: Go. Prepare the soil. Trust that God is already scattering seed generously. For the “both/and” Wesleys, John and his brother Charles, there was no holiness apart from social holiness. Put another way, there was no holiness of heart apart from life. The linchpin, “The only thing that counts is faith working itself out through love.”-- Galatians 5:6 For the Wesley’s, holiness of heart and life is the goal toward which every Christian life should move. Ask God to show you one “field” near you where the soil might be ready. It could be a local café, a dog park, a recovery meeting, or a place you already spend time. Pray for the people there. Listen for their stories. Ask God how you might join God to bring peace and presence, not programs and plans. Because the same Spirit that sent Wesley to the fields is still sending us— into the world that is, even now, God’s parish.
